


Friends we know

by sundaystyle



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton-centric, Clint Feels, Coma, Confessions, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Natasha Feels, Natasha Romanov Feels, POV Clint Barton, POV Steve Rogers, Protective Natasha, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundaystyle/pseuds/sundaystyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye goes on a solo mission that goes wrong, very wrong.<br/>This is a story where his best friend / partner talks him through his sleep.<br/>This is a story where he is Avenged by people he had no idea cared about him so deeply.<br/>This is a story of Avengers seeing the master assassins as they are : A couple of humans without super powers, other than the trust and love they have for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lullabies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lullabies/gifts).



"Barton, talk to me."

He could barely hear the voice through the static of the communications device/hearing aids in his ear, S.H.I.E.L.D issue, needless to say. He could hardly focus on the sounds as he crawled somewhere which seemed safe, dragging his left leg behind him into the closest room, shutting the metal door behind him. With his shaking hands he turned the device around, clicking on the button and recalibrating the signal until he heard Coulson's voice again, less static this time.

"This is Hawkeye." He groaned, breathless. "I'm trapped. 3rd floor. Room...312." He squinted and calculated as he looked through the map in his mind. He could hear the explosions in the distance, the battle going on. 

He could have fought, he could continue to shoot his arrows but that would mean his death, he realized, looking at the messy trail of blood his leg left behind. He could feel his system shutting down one nerve at a time and it already started to feel colder and less painful. And the target already went away, leaving him fighting off his army of lackeys one against a hundred. He should have requested a team. 

"Barton, can you hold on for ten minutes?" 

The voice shifted and now it was much softer, yet no less strict than his handler. Natasha, he realized, closing his eyes. He sighed and nod before realizing she couldn't see. "I can try." He teased, slightly joking. 

Scanning the room he immediately figured out an escape plan. 15 if he wasn't hurt, 10 if his leg was still in one piece, 5 if he could at least still feel his lower body. Now he only had 3 possible escape routes and that was only if his situation didn't get worse. He dragged himself to a corner first, making sure to leave enough blood behind smudged, hiding behind a desk. Taking off his jacket, Clint wrapped it tightly around his leg while weighing the situation. He could see the perfect spot to spy on where he was hiding now, which was the best part of his plan. After he made sure he wouldn't leave any more trails of blood, he cleaned his hands on his pants, dragging himself to the second corner, biting back the groans of pain. He could feel the wetness around his body and he had a brief idea that it wasn't all sweat. Biting down on his lip he situated himself between two desks, being able to see both the entrance and where his blood led to anyone walking in. He pulled his bow from behind him and picked an arrow, ready to defend himself. It would at least win him some time until the evacuation team arrived.

If, one would arrive. The briefing had been short and to the point. And Coulson looked at him in the end, serious. It's a dangerous mission, Clint, he said. And you're going in alone. Yep, he replied, no need to worry. He wanted to laugh now, after looking back on his arrogance. There won't be a team waiting for you and if things go wrong we might not be there in time. 

Well. Whatever. 

There was a knocking on the door, and not the kind, may I come in type. Clint pulled the arrow and steadied himself, ready to attack. Holding back his breath, he blinked away the burning pain at the back of his eyes. The knocking got louder, as if it was trying to break the door- Clint knew that it was a higher possibility than a couple having some passionate reuniting against it. He'd much rather that, couples having sex tend to be slightly less violent against intruders than heavily armed security armies. 

The rest was mostly a blur to him. He could remember the group of armed guys breaking down the door. Pulling and aiming one arrow after another after tricking some of them into his trap location. He could remember being found out, doing his best to fight in close combat without the help of one leg pulling him up. He could remember the loud entrance of an aircraft, a loud crash and sounds of guns. The electrifying pain shooting through his system. And then there wasn’t anything else.

No sound.

No light.

No pain.

Until he woke up with a loud breath, the shake of his hands and the cold at his fingertips. He stared down at his body to calm himself, immediately gaining control over his reactions, his fingers staying steady. Yet his skin was still ice cold, shivering inwardly. He felt lighter, panicked a little. His leg, his mind reminded him, and he was almost scared to check. He tried to move his toes first, feeling them wiggle, so he looked down. Relief washed over him as he found all his body organs intact. 

But he was still really cold.

Next was the sound, he coughed to make sure he could still hear, and while it was slightly muffled, it worked well enough. Okay. He made fists hard enough to hurt, to ensure himself that he was fine, he was alive.

But he was really, really cold.  
After going through the initial shock and damage control, Clint finally looked around to take in his surroundings. Medical, he thought to himself, of the Helicarrier, he realized- and not the one in the HQ. There was only one other bed next to his so he was slightly surprised when he turned his head and saw someone else sitting there.

“Natasha.” He breathed out, partly exhausted and partly thankful. He didn’t have a team of evacuation, he had the Black Widow herself to pull him out of a messy situation. 

She didn’t respond, just kept staring at him with an unreadable expression on her face. A frown, he realized, but not the type she usually had- where she would just be discontent with things, or a scowl for something stupid he or someone else said. He was familiar with a lot of her expressions, many different reasons for her frowns and he would be able to read the meaning behind it. But not this one, Clint thought with an unfamiliar discomfort in his stomach. Natasha was upset far more than he thought she would be. 

So he did the most reasonable thing he thought of. He made a joke.

“If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.”

He thought it would at least help Natasha crack a smile. He waited with a grin on his face for her to join him into making a joke of the situation, lighten the mood. But her expression didn’t change. Didn’t even darken, as it would sometimes when he joked at the wrong place and wrong time as she often complained. It worried Clint and he frowned.

“Sorry Nat.” He muttered, dropping his head back on his pillow and suddenly feeling heavier. There was no pain, so he guessed it was thanks to all those fluids running into his veins, painkillers and whatnot, he thought. 

And he was still so cold.

“What were you thinking, Clint.” Her voice was soft, travelled on a cloud of mist. A tone of a stranger, not a hint of scowl and buried in sadness. He almost felt panic, because this was not Natasha he knew. She would tease him, make fun of him or at least get mad at him for taking on a dangerous mission and failing.

He wanted to reply. He wanted to explain. He wanted to tell her not to worry. 

But sleep was getting to him and his eyelids were really heavy.

And he felt really, really cold.


	2. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve realized Natasha's feelings for Clint.

Steve was always the earliest one to the meetings. Then it was Natasha and Bruce, followed by eventually Tony. Thor, if he was close-by would join in as well. Then Clint. For a guy who is supposedly one of the best agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, if not the best, he was quite irresponsible and often got on the nerves of the rest of the team. He didn't know when to shut up, always made untimely or offensive jokes and played pranks at a whole different level. 

Steve respected Hawkeye. He knew the guy worked hard, was smarter than anyone gave him credit for, able to lead a whole team and succeed. But he was also aware of his bad qualities, all of those which Clint didn't seem to care about fixing. He had ambitions but not the will to work for them. Last time he opened up to Maria Hill, whom he thought might actually include a few helpful tips on how to include him in the team without always having to fight with the guy on a sarcastic level. Maria just listened and smiled in a secretive way, as if to tell him that he doesn't know Clint at all. 

Maybe she was right.

He watched Natasha turning something around in her hand, something silver reflecting the sunlight but he couldn't catch on the details. She was sitting on the couch for the past hour after the meeting ended. 

"How is he?" Steve broke the silence eventually, sitting across from her, looking straightly at her. Natasha startled but didn't look up, a sign that she felt safe here in the Avengers Tower, maybe in the presence of Captain America- he couldn't be sure, but it was a good sign nevertheless. 

She shrugged, refusing to answer for a few minutes. Steve waited patiently, for the past week, ever since she brought out Clint from the mission she was more drawn back, thoughtful and dark. They were all updated on their teammate going through an operation, almost losing his leg, almost losing his life and now Hawkeye was hanging onto the life by a thread. 

He remembered when Coulson was updating them about the situation. His voice broke, much unlike the tough agent they know and respect, but continued to inform them about how he was in a coma now. They had nothing else to do but to wait. 

"The same." Natasha muttered eventually, putting the pendant away, in her pocket, finally looking up at Steve. Her face was expressionless and she didn't seem like she was bothered but he knew better. He could see the lines around her eyes, a result of many sleepless nights. He could hear the slight tremble of her voice, tired and confused. As if she was questioning something far ahead of his comprehension. 

"Are you going to visit him today?" He asked again, raising an eyebrow. Natasha and Clint were close, perhaps the closest friends in their team and Steve heard from Natasha herself that Clint was more of a friend than a partner to her. 

_"What about you? Do you have anyone special?” Steve asked, glancing at the spy next to him. Despite everything they went through together, he realized he still didn’t know much about the woman. Everything he knew about her came from a file with a black cover, parts of it blocked out with a dark marker. For a moment he thought maybe he shouldn’t have asked, but he relaxed when he saw that she wasn’t as much of a closed box as he thought she was._

_“Kind of?” She replied, shrugging nonchalantly. They were sitting in a safe house, waiting for the right moment to leave to continue with the mission, not wanting to risk being sighted by leaving earlier than meant to. “Not special like how you mean, though.” She smirked playfully. Times like these, he realized how young she actually was._

_“How do you mean?” He urged her to explain, slightly confused even though he found it kind of cute that she seemed a little shy, such unlike of the woman with her kind of past._

_“There’s someone I trust more than myself, someone I owe everything I am to.” She answered, her mouth making a thin line. “That would make them special, right?” She asked looking up at him but before Steve had a chance to approve or even ask her about anything regarding that statement, they had the signal to leave, and she was up on her feet before he could even blink._

“No.” Natasha replied, looking at her hands and standing up to leave, without so much of a good bye but Steve wasn’t expecting a farewell anyway. He watched her walk out, knowing that instead going to her room, she’d be leaving for the hospital. 

Steve visited Clint later in that evening, but went back to the tower without a chance to even say hello to the sleeping man. His leg was in bandages, as most of his body. He looked like he was sleeping but the many tubes going into his body was slightly alerting. There was a constant beeping in the room, breaking into the calm silence but probably was the only thing keeping the visitor next to him sane. 

Natasha was sitting next to Clint, her hands tightly folded on her lap and eyes strictly glaring at the archer. To Steve it looked like she was just passing time, but his senses warned him that there has to be something else, something deeper, something that he was missing. 

There has to be something because Natasha looked at Clint like she wanted him to give her an answer she was looking for her whole life, and it broke her that he wouldn’t open his eyes and respond. Her lips moved, inaudible whisper of something Steve didn’t want to intrude on. He knew she would realize he’s there soon enough, if not already, so he turned his back and leave. He’d visit him some other time.

It struck him midway to the tower that Natasha’s special someone was Clint Barton. 

Arrogant, irresponsible, almost like a kid but professional and intelligent man. Who she owed her life and job to. And deny all she want, Steve realized the assassin felt more than what she was letting on for the archer. 

For the first time since Clint’s accident, Steve worried that losing Hawkeye would probably mean losing Black Widow too.


	3. Soul swimmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha tries to connect with Clint.  
> Clint explores his new 'powers'.

Natasha stared at her hand, resting just a millimetre away from his fingers. She studied his fingers, following the light blue trail of his veins up to his arms, where various tubes were stuck in through needles, taped in the serum that’s keeping pain away from him. She didn’t know if he could hear anything, sense anything or even feel anything but the doctors said it was a possibility. 

She stared at the device Tony gave her, a Stark Pad loaded with helpful medical information in case she wanted to research more about Clint’s condition, but he didn’t say that of course. She recalled the billionaire handing her the device with a fake nonchalant expression, a passing question about how Clint is while masking his worry. He handed her the device with a lame excuse about how it might be helpful, maybe there was something in there that would make him heal faster. Natasha knew there wasn’t even before taking it from Tony, if there were Tony would’ve been there, forcing his idea into reality already.

But she was grateful nonetheless. She just didn’t have the strength to look through the possibilities. She didn’t want to consider that Clint might die, that he might live a life that’s even worse than as a vegetable. She just wanted to assume he was sleeping. 

“Clint.” She muttered, her Russian accent heavy on her tongue. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room. There was no one, ever since his situation was decided as not risky anymore, nothing else to do but to wait. She had asked Coulson to have the security cameras turned off when she’s around, he had to pull a lot of strings but one look around the room confirmed that they were alone. Relaxing a bit more, she moved her hand just slightly to brush her fingers against his, wincing when they stood lifeless next to hers. 

“It’s been a week.” She muttered again, even though she knew no one was listening in on them she didn’t feel comfortable enough, speaking out like this, speaking out her thoughts and feelings. This wasn’t like her. “The nurse told me that there’s a possibility that you can hear what’s going on around you.” Another pause.

“I don’t know if it’s true. You’ll have to let me know later.” Another pause.

“The nurse is cute. She’s petite and doesn’t take any bullshit. Tony tried to flirt but she shot him down so fast that he couldn’t even open his mouth to ask her out.” Another pause.

“You’d like her.” 

She sighed, allowing silence to take over the room again. It was strange. She wasn’t used to Clint not replying or joking around with her, making inappropriate comments. The man laying down was not the face she was used to seeing. A smirk that is very characteristic of him, or a frown when he’s calculating either the possibilities in a scenario or how much he pissed off his opponent. No, his face right now was as unfamiliar as anyone else, not even a slightest bit of expression evident. 

“What are you doing Clint? What are you waiting for?” She whispered under her breath, almost inaudible, with a soft movement of her lips. She wanted to reach out to his face, or his shoulders. Slap him, shake him, and pull him back from wherever realm he disappeared into. But she just pushed her chair back, standing up. “I need to get back to the base.” She said out loud almost apologetically. 

“I’ll come back.”

A pause.

She left Clint’s room in the ward without a second glance back. To anyone’s eyes it would look like she just paid a visit to her partner. Everyone knew that they had a really close partnership, friendship between assassins. A rare but strong bond. 

Clint heard the door shut rather than to see it, feeling colder than ever. This was strange, it was probably some kind of science Tony would love to get his hands on. He was almost a ghost, but not quite. He had tried to converse with Natasha the whole time with her just staring through him. It hurt at first that she was so mad that she’d ignore him until she started talking.

Then, eventually, he realized. He should have guessed, really. He must have been really turning stupid after acting like one for so long. 

Looking down at himself he tried to push himself off, wondering the limits of his freedom. He felt stuck to his chest though, so he decided to push through. After a few tries he almost felt the bond weaken and suddenly the room was really loud.

Doors opened at once with a rush of people in white coats, feeling hands grab him and push him down, confusion running through his body like electricity- or was it the cold metal against his chest.

There was a count and then so much pain that he struggled to pull himself away again, maybe if he could break free, the pain would be less. 

The next hit was even more painful and the one after that he didn’t have the power to pull himself away anymore, feeling like he was sucked back into his body. Suddenly he felt really tired. His chest hurt, like he was made out of LEGO and he was smashed into pieces by the Hulk. But he didn’t do anything to anger Hulk, did he? He wanted to get up again and try to find the answers to his questions himself. Maybe spook the guys a little.

But sleep was getting to him and his eyelids were really heavy.

And he felt really, really cold.


	4. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony thinks about what it means to be an Avenger, and if they should have been more careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long break, and this chapter may suck in the end. I appreciate all kinds of constructive criticism and reviews but I'm also extremely happy with the kudos everyone was leaving. Even if you're only just reading this, thanks for your patience and I hope you'll enjoy it.

"...managed to bring him back..."

Tony wouldn't say he was very close to the archer. But even he had to agree that the man had some extraordinary talents with a bow and an arrow, and despite all that, he was internally angry that none of them ever thought about the possibility of him actually getting himself in this position. The man only had a bow and an arrow for God's sake. Still he was up on par with them, the 'Avengers', semi-gods and super soldiers. And they took him for granted. 

"...the possibility of him waking up is.."

He managed to look interested in what the doctor was telling them, but in his mind he was already running the plans on a new medical invention, which will certainly be a lot more smarter than Mr.BadNews over here. He didn't have to listen to every word to be able to understand bad news were being told, it was all over Steve's face -the man had the poker face of a puppy, even when he tried to look strong his eyes gave it all away-, it was all over the way Natasha was standing... To be fair, Tony had no idea how Natasha was feeling. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the spy is almost unfazed by all this. But he knew better and he could tell if Natasha was putting up walls as high as she does just then, it's got to bad. Also there's the fact that Clint's heart had stopped and while his brain was still showing activity, there were no signs of him ever waking up again. Their consolidation was that he wasn't brain dead, at least. And Tony thought that the doctors were just incapable of taking care of an Avenger.

They should be taking care of their own. But Pepper refused it the moment Tony brought it up. "He needs to be somewhere where people know what to do Tony," she said. "He needs to be in intensive care, and you and I both know it's not the sort of care 'Avengers' is used to giving. That's not your job. What you can do, however, is to be there for him, as a friend."

As a friend, she said and Tony never considered it before, but she was right. The team of Avengers were his friends, the group of people he'd trust his life with and if that doesn't say you're friends, what the hell does?

And now one of his friends was dying, and all because they failed him. 

"ny...Tony!" He raised his eyes to face a very stoic Russian agent. "You guys should go. Like they said, there's nothing we can do at the moment anyway. I'll stay with him and let you know if anything changes." 

When Tony looked around, there was no one, with the others already getting used to what was going on around them. It made him angry, a little, to feel that maybe he was the only one affected by what happened, even if he knew that was unfair, even if he saw everyone of them were worried to their bones in their own way. Even Bruce went through more of his calming rituals and avoided talking about it. 

Natasha, as if she could read his thoughts- and quite honestly, Tony thought that was a big possibility, spoke up, harsher than just a few seconds ago. "I know what you're thinking and you better stop thinking that right now. You know just as well as I do that he's capable of fighting the worst and even better than us at some points." 

Hawkeye, the guy with a bow and an arrow. The guy who acts stupid and pretends not to answer, the guy who acts full of himself but they all learn who's a big softy at heart. Tony suspects he's almost as smart as him and Bruce, even though he would never admit it. The guy had a mathematical brain that runs faster than a calculator, and a strategic planning better than his AI programs designed to be perfect. The guy with a bow and an arrow who has perfect aim, completely practiced. The guy who's as good as the Black Widow in hand-combat, a spy even the best of spies respect. The guy who's the only one who could make a call like not doing the job he was ordered, and the guy who could tame a Russian spy trained by Red Room into working for SHIELD, for AVENGERS. 

Tony cursed under his breath. He was too good for them, and they failed him. 

"We should have been there Red." He said finally, looking slightly angry, but holding back from lashing out to his teammate, whom he suspects hurts even more than the combined pain of the team. 

"No." she said coldly, and Tony almost felt ready to fight her until he saw the look in her eyes. "This is his job. This is our job. We're SHIELD, we're here to protect our country, the people and that's what we do. Even if it means costing us our lives, we know what we signed up for when we signed up for this. I won't let you stand there and ever think that my partner wasn't capable of getting a job done, because he did, his mission was a success even if it possibly cost him his life."

And maybe, Natasha thought, they shouldn't have been dubbed invincible, so loudly that they were never allowed to have an extraction team. They signed up for this, and she remembered clearly the day Coulson briefed them once and for all. If you're up for it, he said, the missions are too dangerous for us to risk an extraction team. All you have is each other.

And as Natasha watched Tony leave the hospital, walking back to her partner's side, she never felt more alone.

"All we have is each other." She whispered in Russian, a sentence she wasn't even sure if he'd be able to translate but wouldn't be surprised if he knew the meaning anyway. "So don't you dare leave me on my own Barton."


End file.
